Double Trouble: 1995
by Loki Mischeif-Maker
Summary: AU. While preparing for the upcoming war, Sirius starts sinking, as the Order headquarters becomes just another prison to him. Regulus takes on the job no one else seems willing to take, and Remus Lupin is left trying to keep all three of them sane.
1. Homecoming

**Disclaimer: **The list is long, so let's leave it thus— I do not own anything you recognize; that is JK Rowling's.

**Author's Notes:** Hullo all, and welcome to Part III. Wow. For those of you who don't know, this is third in the Double Trouble series; 1993 and 1994 have already been written and posted, and they explain what breeches in canon have already taken place and what, exactly, Regulus is doing here. For those of you who do, welcome back; I hope this installment is just as much fun as the last two, both for you and for me! Cheers! --- Loki

* * *

Once concealed by the spells that his father had used to make Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place invisible to all Muggles and any wizard who didn't know where it was, Sirius Black transformed from dog to human and ignored the quiet groan of his brother as Regulus Black and Remus Lupin followed him onto the front steps. Instead, he eyed the front door with a bloody-minded suspicion. It wouldn't do much good to try to blow it down with a spell— his dad knew what he was doing when he first cast the protections, and the spells shouldn't have to be renewed— and it was impossible to unlock without a key. Without much expectation, he tried the doorknob. It was locked. "Damn," he said without much feeling.

"Well?" Remus asked quietly. "How do we get in?"

"Er. . . ." Sirius glanced sidelong at his brother, who was glaring back at Sirius over his spectacles. "Well, Reggie, you're the littlest— would you care to climb through the window?"

"Not particularly."

Sirius sighed. "Well, I know dad had every spell he knew on the door, but I wouldn't let him put more'n the locking spells on my bedroom window so I could let the owls from James and Remus in. If we're gonna get in, someone'll have to climb through that. You're the littlest."

Regulus shot him the Black family grin— the one that suggested that the bearer was a few logs short of a roaring fire— and replied, "there are two reasons that I'm not going to climb through that window. The first is that you're more athletic than me, and you're no bigger around the shoulders than you were at fifteen." After the moment it took for Sirius to cross his arms over his chest and scowl, he added, "Besides, unless Dad changed the locks, which I wouldn't put past him, I still have a key."

Sirius shook his head, the scowl fading a little. "Leave it to you, Reggie. . . ."

Regulus shrugged and fumbled in his pocket for a moment before pulling out an antique-looking key that bore the same vaguely gothic design as the door he was going to try to open with it. "I know you left your key to the house behind when you ran away— you never intended to come back, after all. _I_ on the other hand, always wanted a back door in if I needed it."

Sirius shrugged. "If it doesn't work, you're still the one going through the window," he grumbled.

Regulus inserted the lock into the key and turned it. After a moment there was a click, and he twisted the handle and pushed the door open before looking back at his brother and lifting an eyebrow. "You were saying?" he asked quietly.

"Hey, I never said it wouldn't work," his brother answered.

"Good. Now get out of the open. I thought you agreed not to transform in it in the first place, anyway." Regulus gently shoved his brother towards the door— no easy task for him; both were skinny but Sirius was about a foot taller.

Sirius looked back once he'd gotten to the doorway. "That _was_ out of the open, Reg."

Remus sighed. "Sirius, just get in. Regulus has a point."

He shrugged and complied, the other two on his heels.

Just entering the house stirred up enough dust to send all three of them into a coughing fit. Sirius was the first to recover and looked around speculatively— at the troll's foot umbrella holder, the ugly and increasingly threadbare rug, and the glowering family photographs on the wall. He noticed with some satisfaction that he was not in a single one, and the only two of Regulus looked distinctly nervous. "Well," he announced. "I guess Kreacher's dead."

Remus shut the door a little harder then necessary, sending a little plaster down from the frame. "How did this place get worse than the Shrieking Shack?" he demanded, brushing the plaster and dust out of his graying brown hair.

"Well, we'd been cleaning the Shrieking Shack up a bit," Regulus pointed out sensibly, pulling his jacket off. Under it, the t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide the brand of the Dark Mark on his forearm, although he had to stick out nearly as much with the jacket on— it was inhumanly hot outside. "And the occasional student probably broke in on a dare. If Kreacher died right after Mum did, on the other hand, no one's disturbed this place in ten years."

"Do you remember where he kept his den?" Sirius asked.

"Under the boiler, I believe," Regulus answered, shrugging.

"Reckon that's where we'll find what's left of him? That's the first thing I want cleared out of this house, after all," Sirius announced, starting in the general direction of the kitchen. "And then everything on the walls, and then everything on the floor. And then everything I've no doubt our dear mother hid under the floorboards in case the authorities ever got presumptuous enough to raid the place."

"Fine, whatever," Regulus answered, clearly not really listening. "I'm headed upstairs to prop open a few windows. The place needs an airing."

Remus glanced between Sirius, whose mood was bad and clearly not going to improve, and Regulus, who looked a little annoyed but otherwise had the same guardedly friendly look he always seemed to be wearing. "I'll go help you, Regulus," he announced. "And then we can look for a broom."

"Dunno if we'll find one," Sirius answered, following the other two up the stairs.

Regulus glanced back, and his eyebrows soared over the wire rims of his spectacles. "I thought you were hunting for Kreacher's body under the boiler."

Sirius grimaced. "I don't like being back here," he said quietly. "I'm not going down into the kitchen alone."

Remus and Regulus glanced at each other. Sirius wasn't sure whether to be angry with himself or not, since they _were_ the only two people he'd admit that to. He settled for being annoyed, and passed the both of them as he continued up the stairs. "C'mon— are we airing this place out or not?" he demanded.

Neither of them got a chance to respond. A female shriek that froze all three of them thundered down from the top of the stairs. "_What the hell are you doing here again_?"

"Mum?" Sirius asked quietly. "Did you come back as a ghost?" Then he added under his breath, "I am _not_ staying here if Mum's back, oh no way in hell am I going to."

Behind his he could practically _feel_ Remus tensing up behind him. As a half-blood, he'd always been too sensible to go farther into Black territory than the entryway, and only then in a heavy rain. Bella or Sirius's mother had always been in the hall making sure of that. He was probably already uncomfortable but not going to say so, and certainly the last thing he would want to do was witness _this_ reunion.

Regulus, on the other hand, tapped Sirius on the shoulder after a few moments of their mother's screams. "We're never going to find out if you keep blocking the staircase," he announced.

Sirius stepped out of the way and waved a hand, beckoning him on. _He_ wasn't going any farther until she'd calmed down. _If_ she calmed down. Most incarnations of their mother wouldn't be willing to put up with him, or him with her.

Regulus simply raised an eyebrow at him, shrugged, and started up the steps again. He was met at the top by an abrupt stop in the screaming. After a moment of silence, just as deafening as the screams by contrast, Walburga Black's voice said quietly, "Regulus?"

"Yes, mum."

"But . . . you're not a ghost. Or an Inferi. You should be dead."

"Common misconception, mum," Regulus answered briskly.

Sirius's lips twitched a little at the reply. It was quickly becoming a catchphrase of Reggie's— Remus, Snape, Molly Weasley, and just yesterday Mundungus Fletcher had all received it in some form, and the question of "Aren't you dead?" was unlikely to cease anytime soon.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind not swearing at my brother?" Regulus continued. "Unless you actually changed the will, which I doubt Dad bothered with, what with the spells he'd have to do it, it's Sirius's house, after all."

This prompted the renewal of her screaming. Regulus groaned and wrenched at something— Sirius could hear the thumping of heavy, dusty cloth beating against itself. "Sirius! Lupin!" he growled. "Help me! She's a portrait and there's a curtain! Out of sight, out of mind for them!"

Sirius hesitated, not quite ready to incur the blistering rant he was sure to get if she actually saw him, and Remus sighed, glowered at him for half a second, and went up the stairs himself. There was further yanking and a few curses before the curtain slid across and the shouting grew muffled for the rest of the sentence. Then it stopped entirely.

Again, the silence seemed loud by contrast. Then, as Sirius started up the steps once again, Remus said conversationally, "Did the rings actually rust to the _pole_?"

"Something like that," Regulus answered. "You know what? Forget the broom. We'll open the house up and find Kreacher's mortal remains, because if that drape's been closed that long he's nothing but bones and maggots. Mum didn't exactly like this portrait."

Sirius arrived in time to see Remus shudder. Regulus was leaning against a dusty black velvet drape and cleaning his glasses— the dust closing it seemed to have stirred up had coated the lenses. Remus _had_ been examining the rings, but he'd turned to give Regulus a funny look instead.

"Dead maggots," Sirius added, mostly to see Remus shoot him a venomous look at the thought. "_That_ goes down right after we get Kreacher buried."

"We can try," Regulus answered quietly. "She isn't in the gilded frame— something that big and framed in solid silver is going to be _heavy_. I won't guarantee three people can manage it."

Sirius glowered at the curtain. "Point. But as soon as we _can_. . . ." He faded off ominously.

There was a yelp of pure rage and something came flying out of a doorway and barreling down the hall. It narrowly missed Sirius, and when it doubled back, Regulus reached out and seized it around the waist, bringing the yelping creature up to his chest and, after a yelp of his own, pinning its arms to its side.

"What— do we have a ghoul in here or something?" Sirius asked.

"Nope. Kreacher."

"_What?_" Sirius demanded.

A wrinkled face looked up at him, framed by two enormous ears sprouting copious amounts if white hair. Kreacher went noticeably paler for a second before opening his mouth— which was missing several teeth— and shouting the same sorts of things his late mistress had been shouting.

Sirius had endured a lot of those words from his mother in the flesh— if he hadn't exactly been afraid of her, she'd made him nervous enough that sneaking away as quickly as possible had usually seemed the best course of action, and every time he _had_ confronted her seemed to end in physical violence. But the house elf had never made him nervous. He sighed. "Just . . . just shut up, Kreacher."

Kreacher's mouth continued to open and close, but no sound came out. After a moment or so he stopped trying and simply glowered venomously at his master.

"This afternoon seems to be a juxtaposition of shouting and silence," Remus remarked mildly.

"Yeah . . . how did that happen?" Sirius asked absently, running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair and staring at Kreacher.

Regulus put Kreacher down. "Dad never changed his will, then. You're the eldest male heir, Sirius— therefore, you're his master. He might not like it, but he has to listen."

"Oh." Sirius couldn't think of anything else to say.

Kreacher could clearly think of many things, but since he was under orders to shut up, he merely threw himself to the ground and pounded it with his fists.

"You can stop that, too," Sirius added, glancing nervously at the curtain.

Kreacher sat up and continued to glare.

"What have you been _doing_ for the past ten years?" Sirius demanded of the house elf. After a moment of sullen silence, he added, "You're allowed to talk. Just not to yell."

"Kreacher has been doing what Mistress tells him to," Kreacher supplied promptly. Then, in what he clearly thought was under his breath, he added, "His proper mistress, not like the blood traitor that is come back now that Kreacher's mistress is dead. He's not a proper master at all, no, Kreacher knows this much—"

"What, nothing?" Sirius interrupted.

Kreacher shut up long enough to glower.

"Well, she's not speaking to you from the grave, is she?" Sirius added.

"I think he means the portrait," Regulus supplied. He was looking between Kreacher and Remus with the slightly embarrassed look of someone out in public with an eccentric relative and fiddling with his glasses.

"Oh, well. . . ."

Kreacher began muttering again, along the same lines as he'd begun. Sirius grimaced and looked helplessly at his brother.

"Well, it's not _yelling_," Regulus pointed out. He kneeled down beside the house elf. "Look, Kreacher. I know you've been alone for a long time and everything . . . but we can hear you."

"Kreacher doesn't care. Master knows what a blood traitor he is, yes he should, and if not it is Kreacher's duty to tell him . . . yes it is."

Regulus stood back up and shrugged at his brother, equally helpless.

"Well," Remus announced quietly. "I think this clears up any problems concerning bones and maggots—"

"Knowing Mum, it does_ not_," Sirius muttered. "They'll just be better hidden."

"—but I believe the reason we came upstairs was to crack the windows. Perhaps we should do so and then find a broom?" he asked, as clearly as embarrassed to be witnessing this drama as Regulus was to have him around while it unfolded.

"Excellent idea, Lupin," Regulus said quickly.

"Yeah," Sirius muttered. "Just, Kreacher? Try to stay out of my way, will you?"


	2. Moody and Tonks

About a week later, Remus walked into the kitchen to find Regulus glowering darkly at the stove rather than reading whatever tome was open in front of him. Unable to tell whether he was glowering at the stove because it refused to function properly— which wouldn't have surprised him at Grimmauld Place, even the _furniture_ seemed to be against them— or because it was a convenient object to glare at, Remus chose not to ask. "Where's Kreacher?" he said instead.

"I think he's sulking in the attic."

"Oh. How about Sirius?"

"I know_ he's _sulking in our parents room with Buckbeak, who is going to gain far too much weight on the ferrets Sirius feeds him once every half an hour or whenever he stalks up there."

"Oh. What happened now?" Remus asked. He set the bags he'd been carrying on the counter— he'd gone to Diagon Alley for a specific reason after all, even if there had been more important events than the shopping— and began sorting groceries.

Regulus tore his eyes away from the stove and started to help— not that Remus needed it; there weren't _that_ many. "We tried to get Mum off the wall today."

"Oh." Remus shook his head. They'd been putting that off. He and Regulus had both managed to convince Sirius that if they antagonized Kreacher life could get very difficult very quickly— the elf was, after all, the only one who knew the strange things Mrs. Black had done with the house before her death. "I'm sure that went over well."

"Yeah, and when Sirius was finished bellowing and ordered him to go crawl off somewhere, we found out that she put a permanent sticking charm on the back of the damn thing, and that is when _Sirius_ stalked off, leaving me to calm her down and go see if there was any way to remove the charm." He gestured towards the book that had been in front of him. "I don't know that there is. It has _not_ been a good day."

Remus smiled wanly. It was probably not going to get much better in the near future. "Well, after the fiasco we had over the wedding rings Sirius found in the bedroom, what can you expect?"

Regulus sighed. _He'd_ rescued their father's, since he'd actually been quite fond of his dad, and sometime in the middle of the argument Kreacher had made off with Mrs. Black's. It hadn't been worth a search, but Sirius's temper was up just from being home and it had taken him while to calm down and stop threatening to skin the "little thief." Instead of answering, however, he hefted the bag of flour Remus had brought home. "Flour . . . eggs . . . butter . . . milk. . . ." He set the flour down and push aside a few cans of vegetables. "Now, if you so I won't object; I'm as sick of sandwiches as the other two of you, but . . . is there anyone here who knows how to bake? Or make anything more complicated than a sandwich?"

"Not right now," Remus admitted, "but we'll probably get a few more people staying here soon. I know Bill Weasley's coming back from Egypt and he'll need a place to stay, and Arthur's swearing that ever since Percy stormed out he's got to get his wife out of the house and busy . . . as if looking after four teenagers isn't busy enough. . . ."

Regulus raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Well, to avoid airing someone else's dirty laundry, suffice to say that one of the adult Weasley boys— Percy Weasley— refuses to believe Harry's story about the return of Voldemort," Remus explained. "He's moved out of home and it's rather upset Molly. I daresay you could use help trying to clean the house anyway, eh?" he glanced around the kitchen. Since it was a large and fairly important room, they had already scoured it— mostly. To the three of them, the long table and counters had been wiped down. Kreacher had mostly lived in there and kept it in better order than most of the house, anyway. However, there were still a few cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and dust scattered in isolated corners. Molly would probably throw a fit when they told her this was where they prepared food. Remus knew _his_ mother would.

Regulus sighed. "Well, it _is_ hard to believe, especially if you've never been through the first war. Not everyone was going to believe us, especially since the _Prophet_ sided with the Ministry."

"True." Remus looked down at the groceries. He and Regulus had succeeded into dividing them into three groups— what went into the fridge, what went into the pantry, and other miscellaneous household items, including doxycide and spellotape, that they'd need but probably shouldn't have been dumped out in the kitchen. He'd dropped the box of dead ferrets from Magical Menagerie at the front door and would be talking to Sirius about finding someone else to pick them up soon— a former student of his had been running the counter and asked him, _in the middle of a public shop_, if he had been getting peckish during full moons lately. It had taken a lot of Remus's iron-hard self-control to avoid hexing the boy.

Remus shook his head and flicked his wand, sending the items for the fridge and the pantry to their respective places. Speaking of Magical Menagerie, he'd run into someone right outside that Regulus and Sirius should probably hear about.

"Um . . . how mad will Sirius be if I tell you to come get him?" Remus asked Regulus absently.

"Not bad. It's been an hour since we found out about Mum's picture. She probably _knew_ it was possible for him to wind up with the House, and it's hard to sell it and get it out of Black family hands entirely if we can't get rid of the screaming portrait, and who knows. . . ." He wrinkled his nose and announced in a voice that _almost_ matched his mother's pitch, "Perhaps the next generation will have better ideas about purity of blood then their father."

Remus wasn't sure whether to laugh or shudder. "You mean its just possible that Sirius's kids might believe that a Nott or a Malfoy is capable of being anything but a piece of slime? That's always good."

"You know, if he married a pureblood and got that, Mum might _almost_ have accepted it," Regulus answered disgustedly. "I'll go get Sirius."

* * *

"Hey, Sirius."

He looked up at his brother from Buckbeak's equine forelocks, which he'd been brushing. "What, Reg?"

Regulus shrugged. "Remus wanted to talk to you." He looked critically at the hippogriff's hindquarters. A week ago he'd been shouting a reminder that the animal needed a wash and a brush after Sirius whenever he stalked off; now the horse hairs gleamed.

"Any particular reason?"

"I assume something happened in Diagon Alley that he thinks we ought to know about," Regulus answered, shrugging.

"All right." Sirius set the brush on the night stand beside him, eased out from behind the hippogriff, and followed his brother down the stairs.

Remus was flipping through the book regulus had left on the table when they got back down, the small pile of miscellaneous cleaning supplies still sitting where it had been. "You know? This has nothing whatsoever to do with permanent sticking spells," Remus announced mildly.

"I'd given up."

Remus nodded absently and shut the book. "I did get Buckbeak the ferrets, Sirius, and I shall be informing you why you're going to find someone who is _not_ a werewolf to purchase with them whenever it's convenient. The point is that I ran into Mad-Eye Moody on my way out of the shop."

"What's he been up to then?" Sirius asked, playing absently with the corner of the doxycide.

"He spends a fair amount of time hanging around the Auror's office anyway— I think he feels a little safer around his own, and goodness knows after last year he'd want that," Remus answered. "Of course, he's also got another reason to be doing it, now— we could always use more Aurors in the Order, and goodness knows the Ministry can use better informed Aurors. Seems like a couple of them have taken it more seriously than Mad-Eye's usual insane rambling. One of them was with him. Erm. . . ." Remus hesitated and reached over to tug the doxycide gently out of Sirius's grip. "Can you please _desist_?"

Sirius shrugged. "All right. So who was with him?"

Remus glanced over at Regulus. "I don't know that you were aware Andromeda had a daughter?" he asked.

Sirius's eyes widened, but he smiled a little. "Not Nym! You mean Meda actually let the girl do something more dangerous than Quidditch?"

"The way you taught the child to play, Sirius, _nothing_ is more dangerous than Quidditch," Remus observed absently. He glanced over at Regulus, who had cocked his head to the side and seemed to be absorbing this new information.

Finally, he shrugged. "Well, family's always good. Is she anything like Meda?"

"Well . . . if I remember right, you couldn't tell Andromeda 'no,' either, so in that sense, I suppose she is," Remus muttered. "I had no idea the woman would actually allow a daughter of hers to die her hair _pink_, however. . . ."

"She's a Metamorphmagus, Remus, remember?" Sirius asked. "That one time when we were babysitting her and she turned into—"

"Yes. Trust me, I remember _that_ one. I'm surprised I forgave you for it."

Both of them glanced back at Regulus, who looked as if he was puzzling over a particularly difficult problem. "Theodore Tonks must have wizarding blood in him somewhere, then," he answered absently. "Not necessarily much, but he _can't _be all Muggle, it's not genetically possible. Metamorphmagi, Seers, and squibs all come with _inbreeding_."

Sirius rolled his eyes at Remus and waved a hand pointedly in front of his brother's face. "Reggie? Don't turn into Dad, please. I might have to kill you."

"Put your hand down, Sirius. I was just _saying_ . . . it doesn't _fit_."

"Or you're not over Mum and Dad's ideas yet," Sirius muttered, glancing sideways as Kreacher scuttled into the kitchen and behind the boiler, muttering about blood traitors and his masters. "I've no doubt some of Dad's results were slanted."

"Anyway, I thought you might want some warning before your cousin came into the picture," Remus added quickly, aware that this would _definitely_ cause an argument if he allowed his best friend to continue down this vein. "There's no guarantee she'll be happy to see you, after all. He also managed to convince someone who hadn't just gotten their Auror's license, Kingsley Shacklebolt. I believe he's in charge of your case at the Ministry, Sirius, so that might keep us out of trouble if you decide to do anything stupid."

"You sound like _Reggie_," Sirius complained.

"That's because your brother has a point. I ran into Dedalus Diggle at the Leaky Cauldron, too. He said he was going to be there. That's nearly everyone who was in the first Order and survived coming back, then."

Sirius shook his head and mentally started ticking off the things that would happen at their first meeting— Moody would harass everyone, particularly Mundungus Fletcher, who he'd never liked; Nymphadora would probably confront him and ask him why he'd gone to Azkaban if he was innocent— and being Meda's daughter, she'd probably finagle the whole story out of him— and heaven knew how she'd react to Reggie— and he wasn't sure _what_ to think of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He supposed he'd figure that out when he met the man.

"Well," he said finally. "You can't deny that it's going to be an _interesting_ first Order meeting."

**

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Author's Note:** Sorry about the week's haitus; I wound up with more to do than I had anticipated, and real life and a flood of schoolwork took precedence over fan fiction. But thank you so much for all the reviews you left me! donahermurphy: Well, the only real Gryffindor _family_ in the books is the Weasley's, and I guess since Percy walked out you can make a case for that; and I'm glad you've enjoyed my fics. Mizz Moony Luver: Well, I can't _really_ say I never procrastinate, so. . . . And, as always, thank you to everyone else. Cheers! -- Loki


	3. First Meeting of the Second Order

Remus had to admit that Regulus probably thought he was minding his own business, lurking in the back of the kitchen and refusing to do anything that would draw attention to himself. He'd dragged one of the tomes out of the library— and he probably had had to drag it, too, the thing was nearly as big as he was— and was quietly flipping through it. Remus wondered absently what he'd been researching. 

Mad-Eye Moody, on the other hand, worried a bit less about what kind of book Regulus was reading and a little bit more about what a Death Eater was doing in the midst of the Order. In fact, he asked— or more accurately bellowed— the question at the top of his lungs, which made Regulus jump three feet in the air and barely manage to catch his glasses as they came tumbling off his nose. He went rather white as he shoved them back on. It was probably more attention than he'd bargained for, even from Moody.

"I'm not a Death Eater," he mumbled quietly, although Remus saw him rubbing the brand on his arm.

Moody retorted with something that didn't bear repeating in polite company and didn't really have anything to do with the subject at hand, anyway.

"I'm an ex-Death Eater," Regulus mumbled, although Remus doubted very many people heard him.

Moody stopped bellowing, which was a relief. Just because Mad-Eye was impervious to causing a scene didn't mean that anyone else involved had the same immunity. "And you expect me to believe that, do you?" he growled.

Remus closed his eyes and sighed. He could see the little kid Regulus used to be in the scene, the one that had been so compliant to his mother and a hero-worshiper of Sirius mostly because he had no idea how to deal with overbearing people. "Think about it for a moment, Mad-Eye," Remus said sensibly. "Let's say the Death Eaters have come up with a brilliant plan to infiltrate the Order meeting and some way to get passed Dumbledore as Secret Keeper. Do you really think that it would involve sending in a man that was supposedly killed fifteen years ago? It's the sort of thing that's bound to cause talk."

Moody considered this. "They could be expecting us to think like that," he reminded Remus, but there was a note of definite uncertainty to his voice.

Remus refused to let himself get any satisfaction out of the fact, since he hadn't quite succeeded yet. Mad-Eye was paranoid, but he wasn't stupid enough to hang on when he could see the cracks in his own theories. "Do you really think they were counting on Harry crippling Voldemort, so that they could have been planning this for fifteen years?" the werewolf asked. "Long enough to have faked Regulus's death?"

Moody glanced at Regulus, who had recovered from being shaken up and had flipped a page in the book, and for a moment his spinning blue eye settled on the man as well. Regulus looked up. "Well, Inferi can't talk," he pointed out dryly. "But I suppose if you've any other theories, you could check my pulse."

"I might," the retired Auror answered. Remus noticed, not for the first time, that his general habit was not to say things but to growl them. Mad-Eye had had a reputation for being tough as nails and bad-tempered before retirement.

Regulus shrugged. "And I'm sure my brother would readily tell you that I have neither the brains nor the guts to fool Dumbledore into believing I'm a good guy when I'm not."

"Sirius Black?" Moody asked.

Remus smiled slightly. "Yes, about that, Mad-Eye. . . . He's innocent. They switched Secret-Keepers, Peter Pettigrew betrayed them in return for Voldemort's protection, and Sirius went after him. Had they not been animagi, he'd still be in Azkaban for ripping Peter apart limb from limb in order to extract revenge, yes, but. . . ." He shrugged. "I still don't really like either story, since they're both old friends, but in retrospect Sirius's made the most sense."

Alastor Moody snorted in disbelief. "It sounds mad, Remus."

Remus arched a skeptical eyebrow. Behind Moody, he could see the half-smile on Regulus's face that indicated he'd gotten the unintentional joke as well.

Moody realized what he'd just said and laughed. "All right, you've got a point. But one funny move from either of them. . . ."

He stalked off, his wooden foot clunking on the kitchen's concrete floor. Remus sat down next to Regulus, who was watching the older wizard walk off with a faint smile on his face. "You have no idea how tempted I am to do something incredibly childish and see which definition of 'funny' he meant," Regulus said absently. "It's the Slytherin in me, I swear. Or maybe the Ravenclaw. Academic interest, you know? Obnoxious academic interest, but nonetheless. . . ."

"No, it's just the Black in you," Remus informed him. "Sirius'd have already tried, and so would Meda."

"Speaking of Sirius, where is he? He wants to know what's going on too badly to simply sit this one out to sulk with Buckbeak, right?"

"I'm going to bet trying to do one of three things," Remus answered. "Either he's trying to convince Dumbledore that he's at least marginally safe in dog form— he means, there have got to be a lot of hulking black dogs running around England, right? How is Pettigrew going to give Voldemort the right one?— he's trying to avoid Kingsley Shacklebolt, who's in charge of his case at the Ministry, or he's trying to find Nymphadora Tonks."

"Who, if she takes after her mother well enough, will likely sock him in the mouth and demand to know why the hell he hasn't informed Andromeda that he's innocent," Regulus finished, grinning the Black family grin.

It was funny, Remus reflected. In his own way, Regulus was probably the sanest member of that family Remus knew, but that maniac grin somehow fit him perfectly. Perhaps it had something to do with the shape of his face rather than the shape of his personality.

Right on cue, Sirius yelped. Sirius had begun to sound remarkably like a dog, lately, particularly while arguing with the doxies they'd found in the bed curtains, and this yelp sounded like an animal's. Both Regulus and Remus turned around to see him standing by the doorway and rubbing his jaw. He was staring with a look of mild surprise at a young woman with neon green hair and equally bright blue robes.

"That," she told him, "was for sending my mother into a crises of conscience when you escaped. She didn't want her favorite cousin to get his soul eaten, but nevertheless she didn't want you to kill any innocent people, either. I don't know that she's over it. You could have at least _tried_ to send her a letter explaining things!"

"Nymphadora Tonks?" Regulus asked, getting to his feet and shutting the tome.

Remus nodded and got up to follow Regulus. As he approached, he realized the sound Sirius was making behind his hand was laughter rather than whimpering. He supposed that was a positive sign.

"Excuse me?" Regulus answered, tapping the young woman on the shoulder. "Considering the familial relations, it seems ridiculous that we've never met, but—"

Tonks turned around before he could finish his sentence. Her eyes widened in recognition.

Regulus learned from Sirius's mistakes. He ducked her punch.

"Mum's told me stories about you!" she exclaimed. "And I think _you_ would have done well to tell her you were still alive!"

"If I had I wouldn't still be," Regulus muttered, grabbing her wrist before she tried again. "And as an Auror, you ought to know the ways owls can be intercepted and traced." Tonks didn't struggle against his grip, and after a moment he let go. "I can see why you went into the Auror profession, though," he remarked. "Clearly you'd like to stop people from hurting other people more than they already have. Trust us, we'll write Andromeda."

"_I'll_ right Meda," Sirius announced. "I wouldn't put it passed _you_ to ask if Ted had a family tree so you could try to see where the Metamorphmagi gene came from. You take after Dad too much." He put a hand on Tonks's shoulder and, when she turned to face him, pulled her into a hug. "Good to see you again, though, Nym, even if you did just try to dislocate my jaw."

"It's Tonks," she muttered. "I don't go by Nym anymore."

Regulus looked rather surprised about this revelation, but before he could say anything Sirius asked her about her parents and she seemed happy enough to tell him about them. Regulus listened politely for a few minutes, but he was behind on several years more gossip than Sirius was and clearly got lost after a few minutes. He went back to the book, and presently the other three of them joined him.

Regulus had begun to tentatively join in the conversation by the time Dumbledore called the meeting to order. Most of it was spent letting everyone in on some pertinent information, such as how Voldemort had returned and Order procedures. None of this was new to Sirius and Remus, only some of it to Regulus, although all of it was new to Tonks.

The last part of the meeting finally introduced some new information to the two Marauders— that Voldemort was looking for some sort of a weapon in the Department of Mysteries, something that would allow him to come up with a plan to— among other things— kill Harry and become more or less invincible. This necessitated that the Order keep a guard on it.

Remus was close enough to feel Sirius tense beside him and sighed. Not only was this thing a possible threat to his godson, Sirius couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't leave Grimmauld Place in the first place before his name was cleared, and he _certainly _couldn't go sneaking around the Ministry office, perhaps not even afterwards. His name wouldn't be cleared until Voldemort came out into the open, and by that time this would probably be a moot point.

He glanced over at Regulus and thought he saw a little bit of frustration on his face as well. He could take greater risks than Sirius, since the general wizarding population didn't know he existed, but lurking where Death Eaters were bound to go wasn't one of those risks. When the rota passed, Remus and Tonks signed it, but both of the Blacks left their names off. Regulus shrugged helplessly at Sirius, which probably didn't help the elder brother's mood at all.

At least, Remus reflected, no one had been stupid enough to ask Dumbledore what, exactly, this weapon was. Dumbledore was open with everything that wasn't strictly on a need to know basis.

Regulus was the one that invited Tonks to dinner after the Order meeting, since Sirius was suddenly far to grouchy to do so. After a moment's hesitation, she accepted and tried rather disastrously to help Molly Weasley cook it.

The Weasley family had come to Grimmauld Place the previous day, ostensibly because they really _could_ use some help cleaning the house and Molly and Arthur were both a little nervous leaving the children at home for long, irregular, and frequent stretches, but at least partially because Arthur didn't think Molly should be around anything that reminded her of Percy. Remus rather liked the effect the family had on the house. Fred and George were making so much noise even Grimmauld Place couldn't muffle all of it, and at least part of the time Ron and Ginny were joining in. Ginny had also managed to shock Kreacher so thoroughly that he'd been unable to mutter for several minutes, something Sirius had told her ruefully that they'd been trying to manage for days.

Bill had also arrived yesterday, much to his mother's relief, which had caused another ruckus as Fred and George pulled out all the stops to greet him and Sirius and Regulus had to rush back upstairs to shut their mother up. Ron was talking about having Hermione come as well, and if she came it wouldn't be too long before the two of them and Sirius convinced Dumbledore to allow Harry to come as well.

Before he also came to offer Molly help, Remus suggested that Sirius go upstairs and tell the kids that it was safe to come down without incurring their mother's wrath in order to get the most useless pair of hands out of the kitchen. Sirius suspected his reasoning, and without most of the Order in the room, his gloom had lifted enough for him to inform Remus that he was no worse a cook than Remus himself, just out of practice, before he went upstairs to call the kids down anyway.

Remus went to help Molly and shook his head when it became apparent from the loud arguing that Ron and one or both of the twins were on their way. One way or another, Grimmauld Place was coming back to life.

**

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Author's Note:** I really, really want to kick off the plot, but unfortunately Rowling didn't tell us enough about the Order business to just ignore the set-up for several of the plot threads. Oh, well --- I hope the set up isn't too boring. In other news, thank you to everyone who reviewed. adriana.cerdeira: Actaully, I really didn't mean to imply that Ted wasn't a wizard at all. Regulus's polite form of outmoded pureblood references, plus the fact that Muggle-born usually implies that the wizard or witch has no history of family magic, unless its so far buried in the past that no one knows about it, is what prompted his "all Muggle" comment. Pandora of Ilithien: I quite agree, and it probably would've made poor Remus feel better, too. Anyway, hopefully I can get back to weekly updates with this! Cheers! --- Loki 


	4. Late

It was nearly midnight by the time Remus came off of his first watch duty. Grimmauld Place was silent at this time of night, and silence in that house, especially in the dark, was still a looming, gloomy kind of silence. By sheer dint of chaos from the Weasley children, it perked up a bit by day, but at night the atmosphere became a brooding one that would have pleased Edgar Allen Poe immensely.

Remus closed the door behind him as quietly as he could and hung his cloak on the rack by the door, ignoring the gestures made at him by a yellowing photograph of the Black sisters (Sirius had yet to take it down because it had Andromeda in it, looking very embarrassed and buried in a book, and because Bellatrix's expression had amused George to no end). Then he wandered into the kitchen to find something to eat before going to bed.

Sirius was still up, playing solitaire with a pack of Exploding Snap, with a bottle of firewhiskey open in front of him. He looked up when Remus came in. "So how was the Ministry?"

"Quiet," Remus answered absently. He strode over to the refrigerator and began to make himself a sandwich. "What are you doing up so late?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius shrug. "I couldn't sleep."

Remus sighed. "And I suppose that's why you're drinking— because alcohol is a depressant or some other rubbish?"

Sirius made a face. "We had a couple of people over for dinner. Mundungus, Reggie, and I opened a few bottles and I hadn't finished mine yet."

It had been _hours_ since dinner, probable four or five, since Molly didn't like eating late, but Remus let it go. The man wasn't drunk yet, after all, so Remus wouldn't get on Sirius's back unless it started happening frequently. "I'm sure Molly was pleased. Who else did you have over here?"

"McGonagall stopped by and Molly convinced her to stay, much to Ron's chagrin, but she spent most of her time lecturing Fred about the proper use of the pepper grinder. Kingsley came"— once convict and Auror had met, Sirius and the man hired to capture him had decided that they actually quite liked one another— "and Tonks dropped by. She was rather disappointed to find you weren't here."

"Was she?" Remus asked noncommentally. He finished making the sandwich and joined Sirius at the table.

"Yeah. Remember what she used to declare as a four-year-old?"

"That her mother had sworn you were going to break you neck riding that motorbike of yours someday and then you'd be sorry you were hundreds of feet in the air?" Remus asked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "No. The one about you."

"Ah. How she always used to ask me if I had been ill and recommend her mother's cough potion, then?" Remus asked brightly.

"You're being intentionally difficult."

Remus's grin conceded the point. "And if I am?"

"She used to ask me if you were coming along to watch _me_ every time I watched her— for some reason she was utterly fascinated by you. And while she said there was something bothering her about the werewolf registry, I don't know that the fascination has gone away." He grinned. "And you never know what that fascination could become; she's older now after all. . . ."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sirius. I'm far too old for a twenty-something to be interested in me," Remus answered, rolling his eyes. "Fascinated, maybe, particularly now that she knows what I am." He shook his head and changed the subject before Sirius attempted to expand upon it. "Where's Regulus, if not trying to herd you into bed?"

"He does act like my nanny sometimes, doesn't he?" Sirius muttered, shaking his head. "He took something and went to bed about an hour ago, after Dung and Tonks and Kingsley left."

"Took what?"

"I don't know. It was probably a potion, but it might've been Muggle sleeping pills or some other kind of depressant to help him sleep or drive off the nightmares," Sirius answered with a shrug. "About time he took one, really— it seems every time the Dark Mark burns, he won't sleep for a week."

"You don't know what he took?" Remus repeated.

"No, I don't. I'm not his nanny anymore than he's mine," Sirius answered, a note of irritation in his voice. He shook his head again and swept the cards off to the side. "We're Blacks. We kept the peace the first fifteen years of his life because we didn't ask each other what we were up to. That's a tough habit to break."

"_He_ seems to have broken it easily enough."

"Sometimes Reggie's paranoia overcomes his respect for tradition," Sirius informed his friend. "That's why he didn't go by 'Niger' or whatever Black is in French—"

"Noir," Remus muttered.

"—because he's certainly got at least _some_ family loyalty. I mean, he'll defend Dad and Phineas no matter what I say about them." Sirius sighed and shook his head. "What were you getting at, Moony?" he asked after a moment or two.

Remus shrugged. "It's just that with the Ministry after you and Voldemort after Reggie, I'm half-afraid that I'm going to wind up trying to look after the both of you. If you don't mind, Sirius, I'd rather have your cooperation if I'm going to have to do that."

Sirius grinned slightly and picked up the bottle of firewhiskey, swishing it around in a circle and watching to liquid climb up the translucent sides of the glass. "You've definitely got Reggie's cooperation for it," he answered. "And as much as I hate to admit it, all of you've got a point about keeping me in. I'll listen, if nothing else."

"I think that's all we're willing to ask," Remus murmured. "But with you, Sirius— we're going to need it."

* * *

They were tackling the parlor a few days later with the help of a disgruntled Mad-Eye Moody, who had been ousted from the Auror office because of some top-secret development that he had at least four people promising to tell him about anyway. Regulus had recognized a cursed music box of Narcissa's and was busily looking it over, trying to undo the curse and muttering about where their mother's mind must have gone those last few years. Sirius was on the ground, trying to peer into the crack underneath a curio cabinet; Molly had the boys dusting and was directing them like a drill sergeant, and Remus and Hermione, who had arrived the previous day, were attempting to tune the grand piano in the corner, on the theory that if anyone could play they should at least be able to play pleasant music.

Albus Dumbledore wandered into all of this with a pensively absent look on his face, and nearly bumped into Moody. "Oh, hello, Alastor," he greeted the ex-Auror when he noticed Moody in front of him.

"Hello, Dumbledore," Moody rumbled. "What brings you here?"

"There were a few things I wished to discuss with Molly before attending another fruitless meeting with Cornelius about the education of my students," Dumbledore replied.

Remus looked up from the middle 'G' key, which persisted on going flat no matter what they attempted anyway. "Have you not found a replacement for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, then, Headmaster?" he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Remus, I haven't. As a matter of fact, I believe you were the last applicant. I had to persuade Alastor to agree, and thus far no one has risen to the occasion this year. I suspect Cornelius will have his way and appoint someone."

Sirius looked up from the curio and straightened, trying to wipe the dust off of his chest. "Who's he going to appoint, then? Do you know?"

Dumbledore looked over at him. Rather than answer right away, he smiled slightly and said, "You appear to have been outright attacked by dust mites."

"Dust bunnies actually. I think they breed like the fleshy bunnies," Sirius answered absently. "I think I'm losing, too." He gave up on brushing the dust off of his front and said, "Well, really, who is he appointing?"

"I believe he will choose Doloris Umbridge."

Remus swore loudly, after which it took him a moment to realize that everyone was staring at him, Dumbledore and Sirius with expectant looks on their faces and everyone else in shock. After all, the kids had probably never heard him swear before.

After a moment's silence, Molly Weasley announced, "Honestly, Remus, I expected better of you."

There were another few beats of silence. Then, because Molly's stance and words undoubtably reminded him too much of Lily's to contain himself, Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and declared, "Honestly Molly, even Ginny's fourteen. It's nothing they haven't heard before."

The look Molly shot him would not have simply curdled milk; it would have fully solidified it into cheese.

Remus sighed. "Nevertheless, everyone but Hermione _is_ her child, Sirius," he pointed out. He shook his head. "My apologies, Molly. I have . . . I've had a few too many past difficulties with that woman too react lightly."

"I'll say so," Sirius answered. "What is she, a Death Eater?"

"Can't be," Regulus answered. "Umbridge isn't a pureblood name, and both the women and the non-purebloods were under a bit more Death Eater scrutiny in the bad old days. I'd have heard of her."

Remus shook his head. "No, she . . . she doesn't like nonhumans. She used the . . . erm . . . my resignation as an excuse to pass more werewolf restrictions— it's the reason I haven't even had Muggle work since leaving Hogwarts."

"Ouch," Sirius muttered.

"Nevertheless, I don't see another solution presenting itself," Dumbledore replied.

"There's got to be one," Moody announced. "Fudge is trying to infiltrate Hogwarts from the inside; there can't be any way you'll stand for that, Dumbledore. Not on the most important subject they can take for the upcoming war."

Dumbledore smiled sunnily at him. "Then will you take it up again?"

Moody visibly balked, and his magical eye swivelled around the room.

Remus ticked the list off in his head. They had a number of children, two former Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, a convicted murderer and a Death Eater in hiding. There weren't really any viable alternatives to put on the floor.

Except that Regulus looked up from the music box and said, "I suppose I could apply."

To Remus's immense relief, the attention was suddenly off of his momentary loss of the control of his tongue and on Regulus, who shrugged. "I mean it. When you think about it, it's not that likely that I'm a lot safer in Grimmauld Place than I am in Hogwarts, since there's no way he'd dare try infiltrating it yet. Pettigrew doesn't know I'm an animagus, so in a pinch I could become a fox. I'll just grow a beard, get some color-changing contacts, and use one of my pseudonyms. If I remember right, Reginald Fox could even be called qualified— I did some research on the Red Caps in Normandy under that particular name four or five years ago.."

"I translated that into English," Remus remarked absently. "Then I made my second and third years read it and write a report on it."

"See?" Regulus asked, smiling slightly. "In a way they've already met me. And really, Headmaster, you can't say I don't have experience with the Dark Arts."

Remus shook his head. "I don't like it, Regulus. Voldemort is going to be looking for you, and you might not be the best known of the Blacks, but there will be people who can recognize you."

Sirius scowled and shook his head. "Any of the three Lestranges would, but they're in prison. Like he said, Remus, he can duck out of Lucius Malfoy's way, and what the odds of Narcissa showing up at Hogwarts. Other than those, really, who would? He's not the kid he was at Hogwarts, Moony, the whole persona has changed."

In a way, Remus could see the point. Sixteen years _could_ make a person completely unrecognizable, and people remembered behavior patterns at least as much as they did facial features, especially over a decade later. And Voldemort certainly wasn't going anywhere near Dumbledore until he was ready to come out in the open, which really did put Regulus in a lot less danger than Sirius.

"There aren't really that many people looking for Regulus, Moony," Sirius continued. "People see what they want to see."

"I don't like it," Remus muttered.

"Reggie's the paranoid one and he's okay with it," Sirius reminded him. "And if one of us doesn't have to stay here . . . face it, we're all going to drive each other mad." He shook his head. "And I really, really don't like the idea of any of these kids not doing Defense Against the Dark Arts the right way this year."

Remus looked over at Dumbledore, since in any argument about the school the headmaster had the deciding vote.

"Well," Dumbledore answered with a shrug. "It's an idea."

**

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Author's Note:** All right, first of all, apologies for the month-long hiatus I took on this story, and thank you to Jackline for her concern. I have a lot of excuses-- an increase in schoolwork, winter drumline, plain bad time management for a very hectic week in late January-- but my main reason for taking this break was simply burnout. I'm 75,000 words into Double Trouble, all told, which is simply farther than I've ever gone on a story before. Updating this story every week had become more chore than fun, and I needed to step back for a few weeks. However, the juices are flowing again so I am hopefully back for the rest of 1995. All right -- thank you to everyone who reviewed this chapter; the response continues to delight and amaze me. For those who asked: I would assume that Voldemort is not one hundred percent certain how much Dumbledore knows about his plans, and would like to keep such information to himself if at all possible. Since not everyone is an Occlumens, therefore, it is on a need to know basis. adriana.cerdeira: I'm not offended at all, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Gwinna: Welcome back. Until next week, Cheers! -- Loki


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